


As I Live And Breathe

by katehuntington



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Begging Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Fun, Love, Mild Language, NSFW, No Strings Attached, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut, Strip Tease, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katehuntington/pseuds/katehuntington
Summary: Y/N and Dean go out after a case, in need of unwinding. But when they arrive at the motel after a night full of beer and shots, they decide to unwind some more. (Dean x Reader one shot. Smut, fluffy end)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	As I Live And Breathe

The brisk air hits Y/N like a wall as she stumbles out of a local bar in Fort Benton. Autumn has opened the door to the first cold nights of the season in the state of Montana, where the Winchesters and herself just rounded up a Wendigo hunt. She needed to be amongst people after having spent three days in the woods off the grid, but now that she’s struggled through the suffocating crowd inside the apparent Place To Be in this small town, it’s liberating to be alone and out in the open again. Carefree, she spreads her arms and stretches her back, the alcohol coursing through her veins a perfect pain reliever. Thin air mattresses, uneven ground and restless nights took their toll, but right now, she feels peaceful. Content, she closes her eyes and turns her face skyward, enjoying the cool night air.

“Hey, wait up!”  
Dean’s voice interrupts her moment of bliss and she turns towards him, her body two beats behind on her vision. God, she really shouldn’t have downed that eighth shot just to prove to the oldest Winchester that she is not a lightweight.  
The hunter slows his pace when he’s next to her, carrying a shit-eating grin as he attempts to stay on the sidewalk, despite the sway in his step. Seems like Y/N isn’t the only one who had a little too much to drink.  
“If it isn’t our damsel,” he challenges.  
“I’m not your damsel. I could have had that guy with ease,” she sneers at him, referring to the big bloke that made a move on her at the bar.  
“The guy was taller than Sam!”  
“So? I didn’t need savin’ by you,” she mutters, her speech lazy. “I was fine. If he had touched me, I would’ve beaten the shit out of him.”  
Dean chuckles. “Really?”

A glare at the sarcasm comes his way, then she lingers, taking her partner in. His spiked hair is tousled, Jack Daniels hazing his eyes. She cannot help but to notice the strong line of his jaw, nor its three day stubble. If it wasn’t for the scar tissue on the edge of his brow and his chin, he could have tried a career in modeling for a brand like PME, or Levi’s. Yes, Dean is a handsome man, and he knows it.  
“You know staring is impolite, right?” Dean catches her in the act, as he fiddles with the keys to room 110 of the Pioneer Lodge Motel.  
Y/N shrugs, not flustered at all. With a personal best when it comes to her blood alcohol level, self-consciousness is not mentioned in her dictionary.  
“I’ve never been a girl of etiquette. I can admire the view whenever I want, Dean.”  
Struggling to fit the key in the lock, he laughs, the sound rumbling in the back of his throat. It triggers something inside her, a knot forming in her lower abdomen, but she suppresses the signals received by her brain.  
“Just admiring?” he tests, finally pushing open the door.

With a scoff she shakes her head. Boy, he really doesn’t know boundaries, does he? But before she can throw back a witty comment to let him know that it’s not going to happen, Dean closes the door behind them with his hands flat on the wood, trapping her between his strong arms.  
“Because you can have a taste if you like,” he challenges, his voice an octave lower than usual.  
Stunned, she stares at him, her eyes bouncing between his. The hunter’s eyes seemed the most sober part of him, waiting in suspense, a speck of nervousness seeping through the arrogance. Every ounce of self respect yells at her to push him off, get herself a tall glass of water and sober up._ It’s Dean, for fuck’s sake_, the one person she butts heads with most, the one guy she can’t get a grip on and surely will drive her insane one day. Of course she’s not going to take his offer. _Right?_  
But her body responds differently. That knot that she only slightly felt earlier, grows larger, tighter. It needs unwinding. _Now._

Dean expects her to have a counter ready. Yet this counter isn’t one Dean predicted. More smart talk, more sass. Absolutely. An assault on his lips? Not in his wildest dreams. And yet it’s exactly what she does and before he can blink, he feels her mouth on his. Despite the surprise, he responds in an instant, kissing her back fiercely. His stretched out arms that cage the huntress buckle allowing her to fold hers around his neck, her fingers carding the hair on the back of his head. All brakes are off, she opens her mouth for him and allows his hungry tongue to dance with hers.  
They are about to take a side road they’ve never dared to explore, but both are desperate for some kind of release after months of monster hunting and no personal space. Cramped motel rooms, Dean’s provoking comments and Y/N’s sassy remarks. The tension, always the tension. Dean’s never kept it a secret that he finds her attractive. If it wasn’t for their clashing egos, they would have reached this moment a long time ago. Maybe it’s exactly because of their contradicting characters that this feels so electrifying.

His hands move down her waistline, following the curvy lines to the small of her back, until he can fully palm her ass. He steps back without ever removing his mouth from hers, almost stumbling from intoxication. Y/N, however, is able to multitask despite her alcohol consumption. Lasciviously, she pushes the plaid flannel off his shoulders, the fabric falling to the ground, as they shuffle across the room.  
The kitchen counter hits his lower back hard as she shoves him, but Dean doesn’t even wince, too busy releasing the woman before him from her shirt. Breaking their kiss, he pulls it over her head, immediately picking up where he left off the moment the top is discarded. They pause when his T-shirt ends up on the floor too, the reveal covering the hunter with as many goosebumps as he has freckles.  
  
They gaze at each other for a few seconds, curiously taking each other in. Dean’s eyes roam over her body, from her denim clad legs up to the scars on the skin now revealed - without a doubt a result from years on the hunting - to a pair of gorgeous breasts cupped by her black laced bra. Nothing can prepare what he is about to witness in her eyes. Lust in its purest form has darkened them to so wholly, that he’s about to yell ‘Christo’ at her, but Dean knows it’s arousal that causes her pupils to dilate almost fully.  
The hunter looks at Y/N in a way no man has ever looked at her before, but she cannot help wonder; This must be an act, right? He’s like this with all the women he spends his nights with. Could he actually be this turned on by her? The woman he challenges, insults, argues with all the fucking time?  
  
Her gaze lowers down to his crotch, where his hard member stretches the fabric of his jeans. _Oh my_, she’s certainly doing things to him. Wonderful, _wonderful_ things. Then she realizes that all this friction, all the frustration and the high voltage, it needs an outlet. Being each other’s antipode is creating a pull that is impossible to deny, nor resist.  
Her eyes meet Dean’s again, a devilish smirk adorning her face. Slowly she steps back. She takes off one boot, then the other, continues to unbutton her jeans, running down the zipper torturously slowly. Her hands move behind her back, unclipping the black laced bra she wore just in case she would get lucky tonight, and she slides it off her arms, revealing her breasts and hard nipples. Last but not least, she hooks her thumbs inside the waistband of her jeans and pushes them down together with her matching underwear, stepping out of the puddle of clothes at her ankles. The private show she gives her partner is much appreciated. She doesn’t have to be a psychologist to determine that much.

Dean’s jaw had dropped during the striptease, and his dick still twitches and grows at the sight of her. Unable to hold back any longer, he pushes himself from the counter, dashes over and crashes his lips to hers. He needs to feel her, taste her, run his fingers down every inch of her body.  
As they manoeuvre towards the bed, she runs her palm over the bulge in his denim, pulling an grunt from deep within him. Grinning almost sadistically, she does it again, forcing him to break the kiss and close his eyes. Needing to keep her mouth busy, she presses half a bite, half a kiss behind his ear, dragging her teeth down Dean’s neck.  
“Fuck, Y/N…” he breathes.  
With a skillful flick of his fingers, he unbuttons his jeans one-handed, offering enough space for Y/N to press her hand flat on his lower abdomen and slide it into his boxers. The skin-on-skin contact makes his head spin and the woman that is working him over, like she has done her entire adult life, muffles another one of his groans with her soft lips. Jesus Christ, the things she’s doing to him.

She kneads, grinds, then drags her hand up and down his rock hard shaft, first slow, then faster. When he shudders and moans louder, clearly worked up by her attention, she slips her hand out and kneels to pull his jeans down. What springs free causes her eyes to grow big at the sight and Dean grins mischievously at the surprised expression on her face. Blessed with being bigger than average has its perks, especially combined with the set of skills he’s picked up along the years. Dean’s sure this is going to be a great night.  
Seductively, Y/N glances up from her position, meeting his eyes. Dean smiles down in awe. Having the huntress on her knees in front of him is something he never expected to experience, but here she is and it humbles him. Waiting for her to make a move, he cups her face, swiping messy strands from her cheek. There they are again; those mesmerizing, captivating eyes as if he’s looking into those of Medusa herself. One certain part of him has definitely turned to stone with not much more than a look.

She keeps a hold of his gaze, inching closer. Then she places a gentle kiss on his base, right where the vein runs up, her tongue peeking past her lips. He stiffens and cannot help but to buckle forward slightly when she takes him into her mouth, fighting to stay upright. His core is so tight that it hurts. Just bearing witness to how comfortably Y/N pleasures him, an act so intimate, it overwhelms fast. _Shit,_ he can’t take much more of this. His fingers fork through her hair, squeezing tight into a fist with her hair trapped within it. Then he tugs at it gently, requesting her to stand.  
“C’mere,” Dean murmurs, his free hand slipping to her neck, guiding her lips to his again.

The kiss surprises her, the smallest hesitation noticeable. Softly, the two of them move towards the bed, almost slow dancing. His calloused hands explore her shapes and curves, trailing feather light touches, setting her on fire. Then her calves hit the bedside and she topples back, pulling him with her as she squeals. Dean braces himself to prevent crushing her under his weight. Still influenced by the alcohol, she giggles unstoppably, drawing a wide grin from her partner as well.  
Look at her, _just_ _look_.  
The know-it-all tough chick that screams ‘don’t mess with me’, sprawled underneath him in her perfect, naked form, all giddy and smiling eyes. Dean wishes he could stay here with her forever.

The curve formed by Y/N’s arched lips evens out as she drowns in his green irises. A flutter in her chest erupts, one that she has felt before when looking at this man. She knows that the path she’s following is a doomed one, but she refuses to dwell on that thought. And so she leans up, drawing him close and taking him down with her, kissing him deeply. She feels his arousal twitch against her inner thigh while his fingers trace her breasts, massaging them. Dean grinds into her, eager for friction, desperate to get inside.  
Without moving her lips from his, Y/N reaches between their bodies, guiding him towards her entrance. Slick with arousal, she clenches around his length as he slowly pushes in, his groan of relief hanging in the air of the motel room. Dean filling her completely triggers his bed-partner to throw her head back, sighing with pleasure. Her bare throat invites him, and as he rolls his hips, he buries his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder. Kissing her burning skin, he picks up the pace, bottoming out completely.

“Oh, God…” she moans as he runs into her sweet spot again and again, like a beating drum.  
“You may call me Dean,” he teases.  
“Shut up and keep going!” she gasps, getting lost in the build up.  
He doesn’t have to be told twice and drives into her again. The friction is almost too much to handle, the heat close to unbearable. The little spark that she felt the moment he offered a taste of him, has grown into a firestorm and it will not take long for her to explode.  
Somewhere far in the back of her mind, she knows she’s baring her soul to her colleague. Hunting is a terminal profession. Most hunters don’t make it to thirty-five, the ones who do, die alone. To compensate for a short life full of terror and pain, she decides to make every moment count. She needs to_ live_, Dean and her both do. And if they aren’t living right now, they never will.

Dean’s fingers press in the hollow between her shoulder blades as she arches into him. Bucking up to meet his thrusts, she folds her legs around his waist, changing the angle slightly. Eyes closed, he manages to pull in sporadic breaths, trying to last as long as he possibly can, but Y/N’s intensifying moans don’t exactly help, neither do her walls tightening around him.  
“I - I’m right there,” he whimpers.  
“Talk to me,” she whispers, the request coming out more like an order.  
“You feel so good… Fuck, I’m gonna…” he pants shuddering. “Please… I need to c - ”  
His plea is cut off by a satisfied, long groan, louder than all the others, when Dean comes hard, filling her up with a few more thrusts. Y/N isn’t far behind. Despite his own high, Dean slips his fingers in between their bodies to find that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling it rapidly. It triggers a series of moans to leave her plumped lips, each one a little higher, sounds of pleasure filling the room as a mind-blowing orgasm rips through her. He slowly works her through it, aware how sensitive she is right now. As he does he watches her, sprawled out under him, bare breasts heaving as her chest rises and falls, her eyes closed in bliss.  
“Holy… Fucking… Shit…” she utters, out of breath.  
He chuckles as his fingers leave her heat. “No argument there.”

Dean pulls out slowly and reluctantly, laying his drowsy head on the pillow as he waits for the pumping muscle in his chest to calm. It takes longer than usual, and he knows in the back of his mind it has nothing to do with endurance. It’s her. She’s the reason why his heart continues to race. Because deep down, he wants so much more than this.  
She glances his way, aching to have him inside again. Seeking some sort of physical connection, she turns towards the hunter. Propped on her elbow, with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, she lays her other hand on his chest. His heart is still beating faster than normal, but it slowly steadies. Eyes closed, he reminisces over what just happened, the corners of his mouth drawn in a small smile. Y/N huffs, amused, watching the handsome man, because he’s not wrong. God, that felt amazing.

“Dean?”  
“Hmm?”  
She moves closer, drawing circles on his skin.  
“That guy who made a move on me back in the bar… did he make you jealous?”  
He opens his eyes and glances at her from under his long lashes. “Why would you think that?”  
“Because you came to the rescue,” she elaborates. “Even though I could have handled him with ease.”  
“Then why didn’t you?” Dean wonders.  
“I dunno…” she answers, shrugging. “Sometimes it’s nice to be a damsel.”  
He smiles at that, lifting his arm to fold it around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. She tucks her head in the crook of his neck, snuggling into him as she kisses his pulse point. Suddenly she is aware how intimate this is. She’s aware how she wants to stay in this new favorite place, and it scares her. A little nervous, she contemplates, allowing a silence. What if their actions caused a shift?

“Tonight doesn’t change anything, right?” she checks with him.  
“It doesn’t?” he mocks. “I quite like the sound of you calling me God.”  
She punches him in the stomach with a humpf, and he laughs. The sound warms Y/N’s tired muscles and sobers her up as it sheds light on her clouded soul. That’s when she begins to grasp what Dean does to her, what this could become, and for a short second, she’s brave.  
“Do you feel it too?”

It remains quiet for a few dreadful long seconds and her courage seeps away. As she thinks of an attempt to cover the misstep, Dean places his curled index finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. He doesn’t say anything, just gazes into her eyes with an adoration she hasn’t seen in them before.  
Unable to believe the message in his evergreens, she excuses his behavior. _Remember that he drank a lot, Y/N. He might not even remember this in the morning. This is the alcohol talking, not Dean.  
_ Not wanting to get her hopes up, she keeps repeating the mantra in her head, but he cuts her off. A tender kiss brings every thought that was swarming in her head to a screeching halt and all she can feel is him. His nose nuzzled against hers, the brush of his lashes on her soft cheeks as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, pulling her closer. Then she knows.

He feels it too.


End file.
